Inside my shell, is a pearl. But, my shell is sharp...the sword of my mouth wont spare. Be gentle. I will open. Hear me out. I will not bite, but the words may cut, if you are guilty of them. I know not where to aim. I only say, the thing. Chips fall. Some lose. Some win. Some learn, to give...where others come, to take.
The clam...
Written by Bruce James Clyde, at Deming, New Mexico
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